


Freaking Werewolves

by Youremyalways



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21609970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youremyalways/pseuds/Youremyalways
Summary: When a werewolf hunt goes wrong, one brother ends up in the hospital while the other finds himself searching for a lifeline.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	Freaking Werewolves

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy loves xoxo

Freaking Werewolves.

They were so damn complicated. One of the only monsters Dean found himself capable of holding remorse for. They weren’t pure monsters or ravenous beasts. They had humanity, and that always made killing them a little harder. Or maybe it was because everytime he hears the word Werewolf he sees the image of Sam’s face, dripping tears, as he prepares to kill Madison.

The pack of wolves they’re currently kicking the asses of had killed two young girls already, and were circling for another sometime tonight. Sam and Dean finally found their hideout half an hour ago. 

Cut to now.

Sam’s beating one of the more lanky wolves to the floor while Dean removes his silver knife from the base of another’s spine. As Dean watches the body drop, he sees another wolf creep up on Sam. He jumped into action, sprinting towards his brother, eyes wide as saucers and breath heaving. His legs couldn’t take him fast enough, so he resorted to yelling.

“Sam, look out!” He shouted so loud his voice came out laced with gravel.

Just as Sam turned around, eyes wide, another werewolf jumped in front of Dean, fangs glaring. The older Winchester threw his silver knife up, handle pressing against the wolf’s throat to hold him back while he watched Sam for a second- just in time to see his brother duck away from the werewolf’s incoming punch. Sam then jolted up and got a few solid punches of his own in, causing the wolf to stumble back and spit out clumps of blood. All in all, Sam was clearly winning that fight. So, Dean breathed a sigh of relief and turned to take care of the angry werewolf in front of him. The handle of his knife was the only thing keeping him back, but it was also the only thing that could kill the bitch, so… he’d have to be quick. In one swift motion, he tore the knife back from his throat and just as he jerked forward, wedged the silver blade deep into his gut. 

Right as the blade entered and the monster’s eyes turned a murky yellow hue, Dean heard a choked gasp of pain coming from his left. He finished the werewolf off, twisting the knife in his stomach until he was collapsing, before jerking around to find Sam. He felt his stomach drop to the ground as his gaze locked on the scene before him.

The original wolf was down on the ground with Sam’s knife sticking out of his heart, but his brother was being pulled upwards by a second, much bigger one. This wolf took Sam from behind, using surprise as his tactic. It clearly worked, as Sam found himself in a headlock pressed against the monster’s chest. It snarled, taking a claw and raising it up to show off before jabbing it forward to impale Sam’s gut. 

“No!” Dean yelled, mortified, as he sprinted towards the pair.

Sam gasped, but clearly had adrenaline going for him because he was able to flip around and kick the monster down. Thing is, the claw that was wedged in Sam’s lower torso didn’t move as he did. It stayed in place as he spun, causing the sharp edge to slice all the way across his abdomen. The gash was six inches across at least, already pouring out dark red blood. 

The werewolf collapsed just as Dean reached his brother. He gripped onto Sam’s shoulders, eyes filled with panic. 

“Shit, you okay?!” He inquired loudly, moving one hand up to cup Sam’s cheek as his gaze scanned over his brother’s body. 

Sam took a shallow, hiccuped breath and nodded lopsidedly, “Yeah… Yeah, fine.” 

“Sure.” Dean furrowed his brows in disbelief before shifting to Sam’s side and throwing his arm over the span of his shoulders, “Alright, here we go. I got you.”

Dean let Sam lean most of his mammoth weight on his body, walking slowly but steadily towards the impala. 

“Gonna get you to a hospital, you’ll be just fine.” He mumbled, not sure who he was really trying to comfort- Sam or himself.

Sam hummed his agreement, dragging his feet with as much effort as he could with the initial shock wearing off. He could feel the pain now, feel the weight, the exhaustion. But he needed to help Dean here, so he tried with everything in him to stay alert and aware.

They were about halfway to the parking lot when that became impossible.

He tried to stay vertical, but gravity was just too damn strong. His knees were bending forward under no will of his own and before Sam could warn Dean, he was collapsing. He swung his arms out, trying to grab onto something- anything- to buy himself some time, but it was useless.

“Woah!” Dean gasped and bent with Sam, pulling them both downwards so Sam was lying against his chest, “Okay, yeah. Getting to the car was never in the cards, huh Sammy?”

Sam once again just hummed in response, wincing as Dean shifted behind him. This angle wasn’t good- The way it forced his torso to bend was making him bleed faster. He told his brother as much.

“Dean,” He gasped, “Bleeding.”

“Alright, Sammy. Let me take a look.” Dean’s words were rushed and quaking as he gently guided Sam’s head to the floor so he could slide out from behind him. 

He shuffled on his knees until he was across from the wound. Sam could tell how bad it was from the way Dean’s face completely collapsed. Every ounce of anything other than pure fear and worry melted off of his expression. Sam watched as his brother looked from the wound to his own face to the surrounding area. His gaze rapidly scanned the ceiling and walls. What he was searching for, Sam didn’t know. Maybe he just needed to look away from the pool of blood spanning his brother’s entire abdominal cavity.

“I can’t move you, you’ll bleed too much.” Dean confessed with regret, Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes slid over the slice in his brother’s stomach. 

“Dean…” Sam started with a grunt, all ready to tell his brother he knew how bad it was, to let him go, that it was okay. But all of a sudden his throat started burning as his stomach contracted and his initial thought was taken over by a different warning. “Dean, I’m… ‘m gon… puke.” 

His older brother’s eyes widened almost comically and maybe Sam would laugh if bile wasn’t starting to crawl up his throat.

“Okay, okay.” Dean whispered, looking around frantically before shuffling until he was next to Sam’s upper body. 

He used one hand to pull up Sam’s neck so he could tilt his head to the side and rested the other over Sam’s gut, causing him to scream out in agony. Dean couldn’t even try to hide his flinch. He knew he was causing Sam more pain, but it was better that than let him bleed out. 

When he felt Sam gag and lurch to the side, Dean swallowed hard and started rubbing soothing circles over the back of his brother’s neck, “You’re okay. Let it out.”

The nausea clawed at Sam’s throat, white hot and burning. He tried to force down the bile, but it was too late. He started choking, coughing violently, and then the entire contents of his stomach was spewing out of his mouth. His stomach contracted violently, creating an environment so toxic nothing could stay. It forced everything up and out until his face was ghostly white and all he could heave was pure stomach acid. It burned so hot he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. It hurt too damn bad. He couldn’t stop his body from convulsing.

“Woah! Hey, big guy!” Dean kept Sam in the same position, stopping him from falling face first into his own upchuck,“It’s alright. I’ve got…”

His brother’s words trailed off and it immediately sent Sam into high alert. He flipped himself until he was on his back again and shot his head around, searching for whatever made him stop. His stomach flipped once more when he made eye contact with Dean and followed his gaze to the vomit coating the floor in front of them. It was completely stained red. Sam raised a few shaky fingers up to his mouth and slid them over his wet lips. When he pulled them away to look, they were painted in blood- which meant that Sam was puking up blood. Not good.

“Shit.” Dean mumbled under his breath and Sam audibly exhaled his agreement. 

As the blood oozed out of his mouth and the stinging sensation tripled in his stomach, Sam started to look at the situation for what it was. He swallowed before slowly starting, “I’m not…” 

“Be quiet.” Dean immediately shut him down, knowing where his brother was going with his words, “Think your done spilling your guts out?”

Sam nodded as he squinted his eyes. He felt a sense of relief fall over him when Dean let go of his body and let him spread over the floor. His older brother’s hand pulled back from where it was pressed into his wound and as he held it up, both of them locked eyes with his palm. His entire hand was coated in thick red blood, all the way up his forearm.

“Oh God.” Sam practically gurgled on the saliva inexorably filling his mouth.

He tried to twist and contort his body to curl up around his stomach- as if that would make the pain go away. His head thrashed back and forth and the tears flowing from the corners of his eyes cut zigzagging lines down his pale cheeks. Sam wasn’t even remotely aware of the whimpers pouring out of his mouth. He couldn’t even begin to try stopping them for Dean’s benefit. It was all just… too much. White hot, flaming, and  _ big. _

That was one of the worst things about the whole injury- it was massive. Sam didn’t even have to see it to know that. If he couldn’t tell by the agony pulsing across the spanse of his entire lower abdomen- hip bone to hip bone- he could certainly tell by the look on Dean’s face. The sheer panic and lingering devastation etched into the lines by his eyes and the thin line of his lips completely gave it away. This wasn’t nowhere close to a simple flesh wound.

“Sammy, I need you to stay still.” Dean’s shaking voice filtered through the haze. 

Sam wanted to comply with everything in him, but moving was the only way he was coping right now. Squirming around was the only thing that could get his mind off the rip in his abdomen. If he laid still, he’d have nothing to focus on but the pain and he  _ couldn’t _ .

So he continued rocking back and forth against the concrete, teeth gritting together as his jaw clenched. He could feel the warm, thick river of blood seeping all over his lower half, dripping down his sides and sliding down his pelvis towards his belt. His jerking movements were only making him lose the liquid faster. 

“Sammy, come on. I know it hurts, but you gotta stay still for me. Help me help you. Please.” Dean’s voice was pleading and cracking now, the emotions catching in his throat as he begged again, “Please.”

Sam froze. 

The second he did, his mouth opened involuntarily to release a bone-chilling gasp. No longer distracted, the pain hit him tenfold. It shot up his torso like fire, exploding all over his lower body and even making its way up to his esophagus. A blinding whiteness was cast over his eyes that he could barely blink away. It felt like someone gripped his digestive system in their hands and jammed a thousand alcohol soaked needles into his gut. 

“You know what I have to do.” This time Dean’s voice wasn’t so much filled with panic and fear as it was dread and regret, “I’m so sorry, little brother.” 

Sam couldn’t even think about what he apparently already knew because before his brain could even start to function, Dean was leaning over Sam’s body and settling his forearm across the wound, pushing every ounce of his weight onto the laceration. Sam’s vision danced with black dots and his entire body became electricity. The scream that tore from his throat made the hairs on the back of both of their necks stand straight up. The noise came from deep in his chest, sounding raspy and broken. His head jerked up on instinct as he wailed, tears pouring down his face while he seethed. Foam poured out of his mouth like an animal with rabies, any control over his salivary glands completely and utterly gone. He tried to connect the feeling in his stomach to the voice whispering encouragement above him, but both were starting to seem farther and farther away. 

“Okay, okay.” Dean repeated in a whisper, and Sam wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to soothe, “Sammy, I can’t handle this one.”

Sam knew that, of course he knew that. Dean was good with repairs when he needed to be, but not  _ that  _ good.

The next thing he heard was the muffled tapping of fingers on a cellphone screen and then his ears were filled with static and the hushed sounds of Dean’s worried voice. Something along the lines of needing an ambulance, make it asap, he wasn’t sure how… how long his brother would last. 

By the time Dean hung up, Sam’s skin was growing cold and sticky with sweat, the parts of his body that he could see a sickly pale gray. His heart was beating through his chest, weak but rapid, verging on completely erratic. It matched his breathing, which was even more inconsistent. His head felt muffled, like it was full of styrofoam, yet so incredibly dizzy. He felt immensely fatigued and so utterly awake at the same time. Worst of all, however, was that the pain was starting to fade away. Sam’s lower half was starting to go numb and that was bad- really, really bad. He’s seen enough injuries to know what comes next.

“Dean,” He grunted with so much effort it took his breath away, spit trickling from his mouth as he stuttered, “I’m… ‘m… shock.” 

“Sh sh sh.” Dean immediately shushed his brother, pressing harder with his forearm while his other hand reached to put his phone back in his pocket, “Don’t try to speak, save your energy. If you go into shock, we’ll deal with it, okay? I’ve got you, but you gotta stay with me, Sammy.”

Sam felt a jolt of pain go through his torso and with every ounce of energy he had left, rose a hand slowly up to Dean’s face. He got his brother’s attention by gently placing his palm on his cheek.

He tapped his cheek just barely before whispering, “It’s over.” 

Dean’s face went deadly serious and ghostly pale. He immediately started shaking his head in denial. 

“No.” He barked, shaking off Sam’s hand and pressing harder against his wound, “No! You’re gonna stay the hell with me, Sam!” 

“Trying.” Sam let out in a short, abrupt exhale, eyes squinting shut as the pain melted into a heavy, persistent pressure tugging on his midsection. 

Pride took over Dean’s face as he let out a deep breath through his nose, almost snorting, “Yeah, you keep doing that.”

A few moments passed in silence, Sam trying as hard as he could to stay not just conscious, but aware. It was becoming more and more difficult with every passing second. Now that an ambulance was on it’s way and Sam’s energy was all but gone, the adrenaline was wearing off rapidly and unconsciousness was looking better and better. 

“Sammy, I don’t mean to freak you out, but I’m pretty sure I can see your small intestine.” Dean cringed, his voice straggled and frayed. 

Why Dean was telling him that, Sam didn’t know. Maybe he just needed to get it out of his head and out into the air. Maybe he wasn’t even aware of the words coming out of his mouth. Maybe he just hated the silence as much as his younger brother did. 

Sam didn’t have it in him to respond. He didn’t have it in him to merely nod. He didn’t care about staying awake anymore, he couldn’t. The blackness was so warm and comforting. So, he closed his eyes and let his mind fall away to the sound of high pitched sirens and Dean yelling his name.

… 

It’s 9:00am. 

Time is  _ crawling _ by for Dean at a snail's pace. He can’t stop guiding his stare to the black-framed wall clock hanging next to the secretary on the opposite end of the waiting room. Every time he looks at it, it’s like time gets slower. He scrutinizes the second hand, which seems to linger an extra minute at every passing second.

9:01.

He lowers his head into his hands, feeling the sting of his stubble rubbing like sandpaper over his palms. He pulls his fingers down his face, halting them at his jaw and leaving them in a praying position under his chin. He blinks before again returning his gaze.

9:02.

It’s been over 16 hours since Dean last saw Sam. More like 17 not counting the three seconds Dean caught a glimpse of his brother before he was being rushed through the O.R. doors. Two nurses had pushed him rather forcefully into the waiting room, yelling something he couldn’t hear, nevermind understand. He’d never felt more helpless than the moment he was forced to watch those doors slam shut behind Sam’s convulsing body and eight different medics. 

9:04

Dean continued to stare at the wall. He was starting to hate the pale pink color after looking at it for so long. He’d given up walking around after a seemingly endless session of pacing the cream tiled floor ended with him getting dirty glances from almost every other person in the room. He managed to sit down on one of the monotonously grey waiting chairs, each one pedantically aligned along the bare white walls of the corridor. A bulb hanging from the ceiling bathed the windowless room with ivory yellow light. Sitting on the edge of the chair, Dean placed his hands on his knees, intending to stop them from bouncing every five seconds. That failed. 

9:07

He tried calling Cas several times, but there was no answer. Dean knows that whatever he’s doing in heaven is important, but dammit this is too. The exhaustion was starting to catch up to him, but he promised himself that he wouldn’t leave and he definitely wouldn’t sleep until he saw for himself that Sammy was still breathing. So, he kept his eyes peeled, drifting from the muted TV in the corner, to the wall, back to that damn clock. 

It’s nearly 11:00am by the time anything changes. That change comes in the form of a petite Indian woman following in the footsteps of an older, Harrison Ford-looking dude. He wore a white jacket and gripped a clipboard tightly in his hand while the woman hung back in coral scrubs, looking frail but confident.

“Dean Shaunessay.” The doctor all but stated, looking the Winchester up and down.

Dean shook his head and stood up, blinking away the confusion, “Uh… yeah. Where’s my brother?”

He’s gotta say, and Sam would kill him for it, Dean’s pleased to see the silver hair on the doctor. That meant he had experience, that he was good at what he did. Sam would roll his eyes and tell him that assuming that is ageist or whatever. Screw that, it’s true. In a suit, this guy could be a news anchor, clean cut but with a warm energy surrounding him. His movements were unhurried, choreographed and deliberate. He looked like the type of guy that courted the opinions of the nurses and listened to what they had to say. His voice was deep and he spoke with a straightforwardness that Dean was grateful for. 

“My name is Doctor Vogel, I’m your brother’s surgeon.” He ignored Dean’s question for the moment, instead reaching out with a welcoming hand.

Dean swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing as he took the doctor’s hand in his own and shook it in greeting. 

“Well?” He pressed, eyes wide.

The doctor smiled just barely in something akin to understanding as he released Dean’s hand.

“Sam’s one hell of a fighter. There were several times I thought we might lose him, but he hung in there every time. I was able to put a stop to the internal bleeding and minimize the damage to major organs. However, I was forced to remove his right kidney. Human beings are completely capable of living with only one, so that shouldn’t dehabillitate him in any way.”

Dean flicked his eyes around, digesting all of the information and attempting to figure out what was good, bad, or completely horrific. 

“So… Can I see him?” He asked the Doctor once he realized he couldn’t figure it all out on his own. 

“Well, that’s why we’re here. Sam is in recovery now, so he’s allowed visitors. I can take you to him.” 

Dean raised his eyebrows in anticipation, excited to finally being going in any direction. 

“Follow me.” Vogel started, tilting his head towards the corridor to the right before turning his back to Dean and walking. 

“I have to inform you that Mr.Shaunessay is in a fragile comatose state.” He sounded remorseful, “It may be some time before he wakes up.” 

Dean continued trailing behind the two medical professionals, feeling his stomach churn as he ran his fingers harshly through his hair, “The hell does that mean?” 

Vogel sighed, continuing down the hallway with rapid steps, “I did everything I could, but he’s lost a lot of blood, and that blood loss caused the oxygen flow to his brain to stop for a good amount of time. We don’t know yet how severe the damage to his brain is.”

Brain damage?! Fuck. 

Dean swallowed heavily around the lump in his throat, staying silent as the panic washed over him. He followed down twists and turns, every hallway feeling like it was a mile long.

Finally,  _ finally _ after what seemed like an endless period of time, they arrived. Vogel froze outside of a door, passed a quick look to Dean, and swung it open. 

Dean immediately stepped through and stopped as soon as he laid his eyes on Sam. There were no words.

He was hooked up to several different machines, all beeping at different times. It was dimly lit in the room, but Dean could see every fine detail regarding his brother. He had a big, clunky ventilator strapped around his face and an IV attached to his arm. His hair was messy, surrounding his head like a halo. There were deep bags under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken in, making him look almost skeleton like. Sam was way too still, and way too pale. The only thing that convinced Dean he was still alive was the constant beeping of the various monitors by his head and the mechanical rise and fall of his chest in time with the puffs of air coming from the ventilator wrapped around his mouth and nose. There was still a faint pink tint staining the skin surrounding his lips. Clearly the doctors couldn’t completely wipe away the blood. His body was tightly wrapped under the sheets, hiding his abdomen, which was basically an operation game at this point. Dean was at least thankful for that. He didn’t know if he could stand staring at the hole in his brother’s gut for another second. 

He slowly sat down in the chair beside the bed.

The doctor walked to Sam’s opposite side and gave Dean a sympathetic glance. Vogel looked down at Sam, then went about studying the monitors, his movements sharp and with purpose. 

“His vitals are weak, but steady. They should improve over the next few days.” 

“So, what does all of this mean? What’s next for him? When will he wake up?” Dean bombarded him with questions, eyes not moving from Sam. 

The doctor sighed, “Mr.Shaunessay, I need you to understand something. The very fact that your brother made it off the table is astounding. Many injuries like his go a very different way. We’re not even going to try walking him up until the ventilator is unneeded. It’s too uncomfortable and if he tries to move, talk, or breathe independently with it on, it will be problematic. Right now, you need to have patience. Healing takes time.”

Dean bit the inside of his left cheek, knowing the Doctor was right but so desperately wanting him not to be. 

“Well, I do have good news.” Vogel changed the subject as his eyes trailed over one of the screens, “If you look up at the EEG, this third line down shows response in the temporal lobe. In layman’s terms, the part of the brain that processes sound. A lot of your brother’s brain is dormant at the moment, but that part is lit up like a christmas tree.” 

Dean knit his eyebrows together, finally shifting his glance, “Okay. What does that mean?”

“Let me show you. Look at the line right now, as I speak.” Dean did, and it was wavy like a heart rate would be, constantly pulsing. “And then…” 

When Doctor Vogel stopped talking, the line fell completely flat. 

“What did you see?” 

Dean’s heart started beating faster as he realized what that meant. If it was wavy while there was talking, and flat when there was silence, then… 

“He can hear us?” 

Vogel nodded with an encouraging smile, “He can hear us.”

God, that was an opportunity. If Sam could hear him, there was hope. Maybe he could talk him out of this, or at the very least, let his brother know he’s here. 

“Can I get some time alone with my brother?”

Doctor Vogel nodded like he was expecting the question, “Of course. Oh, and Mr.Shaunessay, I would very much like to make sure that Sam’s current state is temporary. The best thing you can do for him right now is keep his brain active. Talk to him, tell him stories. There have been several cases not unlike Sam’s where a patient has come out of their coma after hearing a family member or someone they love’s voice. Be aware, he is probably not going to wake up on that alone, but full return to consciousness is much more common in patients of your brother’s nature when they are exposed to loved ones. Don’t get discouraged if it doesn’t happen, though. Like I said, healing takes time.” 

Dean barely heard him, already much too focused on the fact that Sam  _ could hear _ , so he just brushed off, “You got it, doc. Thank you.” 

Vogel headed out of the room, pausing at the door and finally acknowledging the petite nurse trailing behind him, “Just buzz if you need anything. Vanessa will be on call.” 

The pair didn’t even give Dean a chance to nod before they left the room, closing the door softly behind them. 

Dean hated the silence that followed- hated being in a room with Sam when his brother was unable to talk. There were few pains worse.

“Hey little brother,” Dean started, testing out his own voice. He sat up straight and placed a firm hand on Sam’s thigh, “gotta say, you’ve looked better.” 

There was zero humor in his voice, but he couldn’t care less. He shifted his gaze from the monitor showing Sam’s temporal lobe or whatever to his brother’s face repeatedly.

“Well, I have no doubt you’ll pull through this one. I doubt there’s anything out there that can take you down.” Dean whispered, “Maybe you’re just too damn tall. You could lose both your damn legs and still be an above average height functioning human being.

The joking felt good, better than nothing, so Dean continued, “Not sure what losing a kidney means for you. The little guy probably just wanted to escape that gargantuan body. Good for him, breaking free. Out on his own.” 

He continued on like that, not worrying about how bullshit his facade was. Sam would be rolling his eyes and calling him a chick if he saw the tears pooling in his eyes as he bantered. That thought gave Dean some comfort.

“Anyway, I was thinking after all of this blows over, we could take some time off. You’ve been saying something about camping. We could get some cheap tents, find a quiet little patch ‘a forest. Tell you what Sammy: you pull outta this, I’ll even go with you to DC and see all those dorky monuments you’ve been wanting to geek out over.” He smiled a little to himself, closing his eyes to imagine it, “Or maybe we could find a beach, just lie back and relax in the sun. Nothing to kill or threaten us for a few days. Just you and me and the ocean.”

Dean leaned back against his chair with a content, close-mouthed smile. At least until he trailed his eyes back up to Sam’s ghostly pale face and felt the joy drain completely from his body once again. He fought the urge to just shake Sam until he woke up. Tell him the joke wasn’t funny anymore. God, Dean wished it was a joke. 

“Maybe not the beach, what with whatever that gigantor scar is gonna look like.” He spoke, again without the tone of humor, just desperate to break the silence, “Wouldn’t want to scare the locals when you take your shirt off. Thing probably looks like young Franken-”

Dean was cut off by his ringtone. It sliced through the stale air and made him flinch. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the device, checking the caller ID and furrowing his eyebrows when he registered the displayed name. Without a second thought, he hit accept and brought the phone up to his ear.

“Jody?”

“Hey Dean.” She sounded way,  _ way _ more joyful than he had the energy to meet right now, “I got a sticky situation here in Sioux Falls that I think you and your brother might take some interest in.”

Dean all but audibly sighed into the microphone, bringing a hand up to his face and scrubbing it over his stubble. He didn’t want to deny Jody, but… 

“Something wrong?” She inferred before he even got an actual word out.

Dean looked over to his brother and swallowed down the pain and worry, answering truthfully, “Yeah, look Jody, now is just… not a good time.”

The joy in her voice faded off instantly, her tone worried as she inquired, “What’s going on?”

He wondered if he should lie. Dean didn’t want to worry Jody with this, and Sam wouldn’t want to either. So, he’d lie. He decided on that. So why the hell the truth came flying from his mouth- he didn’t freaking know. 

“It’s Sam. He’s uh, he’s hurt pretty bad.”

He regretted it immediately when Jody’s voice went from curious to fearful and panicked, “What happened?”

Dean swallowed, watching Sam’s chest rise and fall as an assurance that he was still with him, “Werewolf got him. Clean slice across his abdomen, deep. He lost a lot of blood and he’s…” Dean kicked himself for the way his voice cracked, “he’s not waking up. They think there might be brain damage.”

Jody’s voice crack mirrored his own as she solemnly questioned, “Where are you?”

“Nebraska.” Dean answered, trying to remember specifically, “Lincoln.”

As he feared, her instant response was, “I’m on my way.”

“No, no.” The older Winchester sighed in denial, “Jody, Sam wouldn’t want you to drop everything just to come see him. Neither would I.”

“Too freaking bad, you’re stuck with me. I’ll be there in four hours.” Jody practically scoffed and Dean closed his eyes in a silent gesture of gratitude that he would never admit to. 

He smirked a little and squeezed Sam’s thigh just barely as he teased, “I take it you won’t take no for an answer.”

“Glad we clarified that.” Jody quipped before lowering her voice again, “I’ll see you soon.”

Dean sighed, looking down at his watch for the time before agreeing, “Alright.”

“Oh, and Dean,” She spoke quickly through the line before he could hang up, ”Sam Winchester is one of the strongest men I have ever met. He’ll pull through. Have some faith.”

Dean hummed dismissively, “No faith in some jacked up higher power is gonna save my brother, sheriff.”

Jody’s voice carried an air of amusement as she clarified, “Faith in  _ Sam _ , smartass.”

He looked to his brother’s closed eyes and felt a pang in his chest. If Dean had faith in one thing in this world, damn right it’s his brother. 

“Right.”

“Bye, Dean.”

“Bye.” 

He hung up the phone and placed it carelessly into his lap, not bothering to slide it back into his pocket. 

...

“Okay, so they allow immediate family only.”

Jody laughed a little as she entered Sam’s hospital room just over four hours later, a coffee in each hand. Because of that, she didn’t have a hand to open the door so she walked into the room backfirst, using her shoulder blades to push the door open. Dean could tell the exact moment she turned around and saw Sam because her words completely fell off. 

“So hi, I’m your new stepm-” 

Jody froze and Dean watched the color drain from her face in slow motion. She swallowed thickly and her smile fell completely, frown hitting the floor like in the cartoons. He followed her gaze to his brother’s face- still, pale, boney, and hidden behind a giant gas mask. His collar bones protruded from under the hospital gown and there was a shadow of a beard starting to appear on his jaw. 

“Oh, honey.” She whispered softly in devastation and something akin to grief. Dean couldn’t tell if it was directed at him or Sam. Probably both.

After a moment, Jody shook her head ever so slightly and walked over to Dean silently, handing him one of the coffees. He thanked her absentmindedly, but she didn’t respond. Instead, the sheriff turned her back to the older Winchester and walked towards Sam. She scanned her eyes over his sleeping form and raised her unoccupied palm, placing it gently over his limp hand. Her fingers trailed over his knuckles and Dean watched as her eyelids fluttered shut. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or if the dim lights just gave the illusion of shiny tears on her face. 

“You said it was a…” Her voice cracked, and Dean confirmed to himself that she was indeed crying, “It was a werewolf?” 

He pulled his hands into his lap, fingers circling the coffee cup and nodded, “Yeah.” 

He took a fleeting sip of his coffee and savored the way it burned down his throat. It was something else to focus on. 

“You finish off the pack, or…” Jody asked quietly, eyes still locked on Sam. “Cause if you need me to go back in for the rest, I’d be more than happy to.” 

Dean smiled a little to himself, sadly, “I appreciate that Jody, but no… no, we took care of it.”

She nodded and finally let go of Sam’s hand, walking backwards to take a seat in the chair beside Dean. She raised the coffee up to her lips and they fell into a thick silence. Dean could tell she was still staring at Sam, unsure of what to say. There just weren’t words.

This is the most Dean has ever missed his brother, and Sam was literally lying right in front of him. Somehow it’s worse that he’s here, but not really  _ here _ . It made him crave all the little things his brother did. The things that made him unique, the things that made him Sam. Like, Dean hates when Sam makes stupid history jokes that he doesn’t understand, but right now? There wasn’t a price on earth he wouldn’t pay to hear one of those stupid jokes. The silence is Dean’s enemy. It makes him think too much. It’s a long while before Jody breaks it.

“You haven’t slept a minute, have you?” She asked, voice filled with worry and sadness. There was no actual question in her voice, she already knew the answer. 

Dean pushed his lips over to one side of his mouth and puckered them, looking down at his hands in a gesture that gave away everything Jody needed to know. She smiled sadly in return, reaching up to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. They let the stale air and persistent beeping of Sam’s heat monitor completely surround them. 

“He’s gonna be okay.” Jody whispered after a few long seconds, her eyes teary and voice laced with cracks. 

Dean nodded like he agreed, yet simultaneously reached up to remove Jody’s hand from his shoulder. She just barely caught a glimpse of his glassy eyes before he leaned to the side and rested his head on her shoulder. It was something he’d  _ never _ normally do, but he didn’t have an ounce of energy left and it felt good to have somebody next to him. It made him feel less alone, and for now, that outweighed his pride. Jody didn’t say anything, just extended her arm to lie across his shoulders and hold him tighter to her side. 

After a few minutes, Jody started drawing little comforting circles on his bicep and suggested in a gentle voice, “Honey, why don’t you take a walk? Get out of this room for a few minutes, you could use the break. And the fresh air certainly wouldn’t hurt.” 

“I’m okay.” Dean dismissed immediately, shifting his feet on the tiled floor, but leaving his head where it was.

Jody gave one of her no-nonsense glares topped with a raised brow and pushed, “Dean Winchester, if you don’t get outta that chair, I’m going to kick your ass right out the door.”

Dean huffed but nonetheless persisted, “I said I’m okay.” 

Jody kept pressing, “Dean-”

“Look, they don’t know when he’s going to wake up.” Dean interrupted, pushing himself off of her shoulder so he could look at her face as he argued, “No way in hell am I risking not being here when that happens. I can’t…” He trailed off, eyes getting more watery against his will.

“He’s not gonna wake up with the vent-” Jody cut herself off when Dean turned to her with sad eyes. She sighed, realizing it was for the better to just give in, and nodded. She squeezed his bicep in comfort and whispered soothingly, “Okay.”

Dean nodded gratefully, eyes spaced out. He cleared his throat and swiftly rubbed his sleeve across his eyes, wiping away any evidence of his emotions.

“So uh, that case, the one you were gonna put me and Sammy on,” He changed the subject, swirling his coffee cup in his hand, “What happened?” 

Jody sighed, clearly aware of his deflection, but nonetheless gave in, “Looks like vamps. Two couples found dead in the woods, drained of their blood.” 

Dean hummed, “Sounds serious. I could call Garth, or some other hunter to come clean it u-”

Jody shook her head dismissively, cutting him off, “Not necessary. I actually put Claire and Alex on it.”

Dean knitted his brows, turning his attention to Jody with a skeptical look, “You think they’re ready for that?” 

There wasn’t a hint of doubt in Jody’s voice as she confirmed, “Yeah, I think they are. Gotta let them go at some point. Plus,” She held up her phone and wiggled it in the air, “Gps and speed dial. Something happens, I’ll know.” 

Dean tilted his head just slightly to the side and grimaced a little, “Still… Aren’t they kinda young for that?”

Jody raised her eyebrows comically high and spoke daringly, “Oh I know you aren’t questioning my parenting.”

“No!” Dean rushed out before slouching down in his chair, sighing as he slid his gaze to Sam. His voice shifted from defensive to completely defeated as he clarified, “It’s just… People get hurt doing what we do. Maybe if you still have some control over whether or not they enter this life, you should shut it down. You have a chance to save them, Jody. They start going down this road for real, you’re not ever gonna get that chance again.”

“I get it, Dean. Really, I do.” Jody leaned back against her chair, “But, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, me and my girls? We aren’t you and Sam.”

Dean jerked his head back in surprise, narrowing his eyes, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jody smiled softly as she shifted her gaze from Dean to Sam, “You didn’t get to protect him from this life. Seeing him like this… I can’t imagine how difficult it is for you. You must feel responsible, that you should have never let him become a hunter… but, listen to me, Dean; You and Sam make the world a better place. I don’t believe in fate, but you and Sam? You are doing what you are meant to be doing. Sure there are risks, but when aren’t there?” She sighed, “I just mean… if Claire and Alex believe they are meant to be hunting, and are making the world a better place because of it, then it would be pretty shitty of me to stop them. Now, I get that you may be trying to warn me so that my girls don’t end up like…” She swallowed and gestured half heartedly towards Sam, “But… that’s their decision. And that is Sam’s decision. You can feel sad, mournful, or even pissed… but don’t feel guilty.” 

“Sounds a lot easier than it is.” Dean smiled tightly, close lipped. 

“No argument there.” Jody agreed with a sympathetic smile and heavy sigh. 

After a few seconds passed in silence, Dean suddenly found himself laughing softly into his coffee lid. 

“What?” Jody asked with lighthearted curiosity.

“Nothing, nothing.” Dean dismissed at first, followed by another little laugh, “It’s just that speech you gave was very…” 

“Motivational?” Jody tried to fill in.

Dean shook his head and corrected with a distant smile, “Sam-like.”

Jody raised her brows and announced proudly, “Well, then don’t listen to me. Listen to your brother.”

Dean gave a halfhearted, close-lipped smile and settled back against his chair, eyes trailing over Sam’s unmoving form. God, he was too damn big. His head was as far up as it could get and his feet were still practically hanging over the end of the bed. 

“He looks so young like this.” Jody whispered after a moment, her voice soft as a feather.

Dean pursed his lips and tilted his head as he glazed his eyes over Sam. Jody was right- when Sam was asleep the weight of the whole damn world wasn’t visible on his shoulders and it made him look not only younger, but more innocent… less scarred. 

“Yeah.” He agreed, “To be fair, hunting’s gotta add at least ten years to the looks.” 

Jody raised her brows and scoffed a little, “Yeah, well I think you’re both doing perfectly fine in that department.” 

Dean smirked, “Back at you sheriff.” 

She sat up and sighed with false regret and sorrow in her tone, “Alas, I don’t date younger men.” 

Dean over exaggeratedly put a hand to his heart, “I suppose I’ll just have to learn how to live with the heartache.” 

Jody smiled and gripped his forearm jokingly, “Stay strong.” 

Dean laughed just barely before leaning back in his chair. 

It was going to be a long,  _ long _ night. 

… 

“How you feeling?”

Sam scoffed just barely, blinking lazily. His head was still pressed against the pillow, as if moving his neck was an unimaginable task.

“Like I got my guts ripped out by a werewolf.”

Dean raised his eyebrows teasingly and spoke with a tone laced in sarcasm, “Ya don’t say?” 

It was 36 hours after the ventilator came off when Sam finally woke up. Jody was out getting more coffee and the shell-shocked gasp of air that erupted from Sam when he broke into consciousness scared the shit out of Dean. After spending a solid four minutes chewing out Sam for being careless while hunting, Dean had relaxed and simply started being grateful that his brother was still breathing. 

“Really, though, I’m good.” Sam insisted with a faint nod that made him wince just slightly. 

Dean laughed humorlessly and repeated with disbelief, “You’re good.”

Sam pursed his lips and raised his brows like it couldn’t be any more obvious, “Yeah.”

Dean shook his head and was about to fight Sam on that, but was cut off before he could. 

“I mean, obviously I’m in pain and the whole nausea thing sucks beyond words,” Sam elaborated, “but… I’m here. I’m alive. So yeah, I’m good.” 

“Alright Sasquatch.” Dean hummed, “Just get some rest before one of those stitches pops and your ovaries fall out.” 

Sam rolled his eyes, “Shut up.” 

Dean leaned back in his chair, pleased with himself. 

“Don’t worry Sammy,” He muttered and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back, finally letting go of some of the tension and stress, “You’re gonna be fine.” 

Sam raised a brow and swallowed before nodding.

“ _ We’re _ gonna be fine.”


End file.
